


Lightless.

by idontwanttodothisanymore



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Brief talks of Teresa, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Unrequited Love, newtmas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-14 23:48:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13601034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idontwanttodothisanymore/pseuds/idontwanttodothisanymore
Summary: The three times Newt was there for Thomas. And the one time he wasn't.1. Newt's survivior's ptsd2. Firewater + butterflies3. Picking up the pieces while falling to pieces4. Newt's final attempt





	Lightless.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for stopping by, comments are always appreciated!

1\. Embers fly weightlessly into the summer night sky while Newt overhears Thomas running his mouth faster than his legs. Ever so elegantly, he boasts about what new horizons they are to come across. Leaning back on the log they are sharing, he takes in the warm air feeling his eyes fluttering shut. _This is nice_ , Newt thinks. He feels, _content_?

  
A silence befalls the gladers and runners gathered around the fire and Newt opens his eyes to see Minho hovering over him.

"Newt, you should go to sleep." The boy suggests with a confusingly kind smile but the sounds are garbled while his chest feels that it is on the verge of collapse. Only upon further investigation and rapid blinking does he understand the request. The syllables soon form words in his mind and he can't verbally respond in time.

A gasp escapes him as he is taken back to his first suicide attempt. The painful agony of the fall runs through his right leg and in a feeble effort he pushes Minho away gently while simultaneously trying to push the horrid memories away as well. He feels himself reliving the incident and he shoots up to get some proper air. Minho walks backwards to his tent, hands up in surrender as he mumbles soft apologies.

On the walk to the maze; his breath is uneven, the pain almost unbearable, and his forehead is soaked with sweat. A hand reaches out to touch him and he turns around only to fall flat on his back, he scrambles back helplessly.

"Newt, you okay?" Thomas asks, the concern evident in his voice. He bends a knee next to the injured boy, offering a hand.

"I think so." Newt grimaces while biting down on his cheek to mask the pain. His fists balled up, blunt nails digging into his palm in irrational anger. Anger in the fact that he s _hould_  be dead. His attempt was _pathetic_. Angry that he didn't try _hard enough_ to cut his life short. Irrational thoughts that are enticing and make perfect sense to him but he full well knows that they make no sense in actual retrospect.

Thomas waves a hand in front of Newt's face to bring him out of his thoughts. It works but as Newt tries to lean his weight on either of his legs they bow out immediately.

"You've got to be bloody kidding me!" Newt exclaims vehemently to himself causing himself to accidentally bite too hard on his cheek. The sweet taste of iron fills his mouth and that is yet another trigger in itself.

He curses himself internally while Thomas scoops him off the ground effortlessly. The brunette's arms under his knees and back for support.

"Tommy, this is embarrassing. Just set me down. I can _do_ it. I can _walk_." It comes out as a murmur as Thomas walks even faster to their shared tent. Upon entering, Newt is trying to wriggle out of his grasp to which Thomas pinches his side in retaliation.

"Hey no, none of that." Thomas chastises and Newt rolls his eyes. _Oh how the tables have turned_.

"I said, set me _the fuck_  down!" Newt yells exasperatedly and Thomas throws him on his cot. "Fuck you."

"What's got you in such a sour mood?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Newt responds before sitting up properly on his cot and biting the back of his thumb nervously. "At least not right this second." He tacks on as the guilt of taking his misplaced anger on Thomas sets in almost immediately. It makes him sweat anxiously. Similiar to cold sweats. "I'm sorry for yelling at you."

"That's alright. I just wanted to help." Thomas, too kindly for this world, supplies and Newt asks for his hand. It feels almost familiar when their fingers interlock. It feels scarily natural despite it being the first time they've ever held hands.

The guilt of surviving, of yelling at Thomas, for something that doesn't involve him, of being a damn burden on everyone around him- whirls around in his head and he wants to just outright scream. Instead he turns to Thomas sitting next to him on his cot.

"Tommy, did I ever tell you the story of my limp?" The much thinner boy laughs wryly. "It's a fun one, let me tell you." The tone of sarcasm isn't missed by his present company as he feels Thomas rubbing tiny circles into his hand.

"Go on." Thomas encourages with a similiarly sympathetic smile that _everyone_ always offers when he brings up his leg.

"Well, one morning I was so sick to my stomach of all the same routine day in and out. So, I found and climbed the tallest wall of the maze. And I jumped. Minho was the one who found me and carried me back to get help. Guess it was an opportunity missed." Tears start to bead in Newt's eyes and his voice is softer, gentler, more vunerable as he speaks once more, "Minho tells me that I have a second chance at life. But, Tommy I didn't _want_ to survive. I **failed**. All I have left now is this _damned_ gimp leg and gazes from idiots that pity me!" Sobs wrack his body as he instinctively wraps his arms around Thomas, crying on his shoulder. His breaths come out in wheezes and staccatos as he tries to speak once more but Thomas shushes him.

"It's okay Newt. I'm _so_ happy you're here. We all are. We all love and adore you and we are all here for you, okay? Don't ever forget that."

It eases Newt's fragile heart to hear that Thomas is _happy_. Happy that  he's here. That he _exists_.

He can't help but choke back laughter as Thomas wipes the tears off his cheeks.

Newt thinks he's _properly beautiful_.

That Thomas is _the type of person he could fall in love with._

It's, what he thought was, a fleeting thought but needless to say, it sticks with him throughout the night as Thomas' arms are locked around his waist and his head is resting on his shoulder.

He doesn't sleep a wink.

 

2\. After a long night leading into the morning of drinking pure firewater, Thomas decides to rest on Newt's lap. He called it a ' _cat nap_ ' but hours later and he is out cold.

Newt threads his fingers delicately through Thomas' hair as if he is made of the world's finest porcelain. Thomas looks so gentle and small, oppositional to the way he is when awake, while lying his head on his lap. He watches his chest rise and fall peacefully throughout the night and finds that he can't help but smile.

Looking up, he stares up at the sky in wonderment. They twinkle nicely. Nice and bright under the night sky. They remind him of Thomas' eyes when he's hatched an idea, usually ones that Newt follows through with. Granted, they don't always end up too well. But he would never say no to Thomas. He can't fathom the thought. Where ever Thomas goes, he goes. No questions asked.

Shaking his head and suddenly feeling terribly vunerable and out of his element- he wants to get up and pace around to think _why_  this is but instead opts to stay where he is. Stay with Thomas, stay with his head resting on his lap, and his fingers threading through the boy's hair.

He doesn't want to wake Thomas.

_Why doesn't he want to wake Thomas?_

He wants to run his fingers through his hair and tell him nothing but sweet words and stories of a safe haven not too far away.

_Why is he raking his fingers through his hair? Why does he want to make it to the safe haven with Thomas?_

His heart pounds altogether _too fast_ a minute for him to catch a number of beats.

_Why is his heart beating so **damn** fast?_

Newt gulps as an intrusive image of kissing Thomas pops in his head. His fingers are grabbing at Thomas' shirt desperately, weakly, while Thomas kisses him with the passion on a thousand suns. Kisses him like he is his entire world. Kisses him as if he could disappear at any second. As if it'd be their last kiss.

Newt finds that as soons as the image blurs he is left with a false sense of hope and a need for more. A wanting for Thomas. An instense ache for the sugary sweet.

A furious blush rapidly covers his cheeks in rouge and he finds his lungs are out of air and the slightest movement on Thomas' part is driving his body insane. Newt slides his fingers to his own lips and lightly traces Thomas' with his other hand. _Oh, it would be heavenly to touch. Taste. And claim_. Blinking rapidly, he pulls his hand away so fast you would think he had singed himself on the embers of a fire.

Thomas stirs in his sleep and sits up beside Newt, eyes blinking slowly to adjust to the small embers left burning in the campfire before them. Newt swallows nervously and shudders when Thomas comes close _tooclose_ for comfort and his fingers tip his chin up. He wants to close the gap and feel what it's like to kiss someone for the first time but he waits for a response. Thomas smiles lazily, eyes glassy, and closes the gap. Newt shudders and leans in to kiss Thomas gently and it's everything he's imagined. But tons better. _Scarily, its happening._  The kiss is gentle and Thomas' wandering hands are spectacular, he can feel himself melting into them. Newt sips kisses from Thomas' lips, pulling away every few seconds to laugh giddily to which Thomas reciprocates. After a few minutes, Newt pulls back and Thomas throws his arms around the small boy's waist before his eyes flutter shut. The blonde boy falls to the ground, his legs at an uncomfortable angle while Thomas lies on top of him. He can feel his breath near his ear and shivers run up and down his spine. Thomas speaks one word, one name _so longingly_ and Newt believes it's his heart falling into his stomach that makes him want to physically disappear.

" _Teresa_.."

Thomas wakes up in the morning by himself and with no recollection of the kiss he shared so intimately with Newt a few hours earlier. He carries on obliviously throughout the day as Newt ignores him.

Thomas shucks it up to 'waking up on the wrong side of the cot.'

 

3\. Newt decides against his instincts and keeps his trap shut for once. Thomas on the other hand is crying into his chest, mumbling and murmuring the traitor's name. He has been almost inconsolable for the past few hours.

 _You've got to be fucking kidding me_ , Newt thinks absentmindedly while he rubs soothing circles into Thomas' back and threading his fingers through his hair in efforts to keep him grounded. To calm him down faster. It works slightly.

This is _not_ the ideal sort of situation that Newt wants to be in when comforting Thomas. _Then again_ , neither was the kissing incident.

Thomas looks up from his place cowering in Newt's chest and the thin boy wipes away his tears.

"You look quite shit when you cry, Tommy." Newt tries to jab at him and it works. Thomas laughs breathlessly which makes Newt feel a couple of things. Weird things. Strange sense of happiness and pride. _Misplaced feelings_ , he believes and swats away the foolish and prideful thoughts.

"I'm sorry for getting your clothes so dirty."

 _I'd do this for you any day. Trust me, it's really nothing_ , Newt's brain supplies and it frazzles him to his very core but he shakes it off.

"They're just clothes, Tommy. There's no need to be apologising."

"... It's _just-_ I felt so. Connected to her. And, and. For her to have betrayed m-.. _Us_ , like this. Then make Minho an experiment again."

 _Oh, here we go again_. Newt's mind sasses and he bites his lip so damn hard that blood beads there comfortably. He licks the blood away and sucks in his lower lip momentarily to ease the pain.

"We'll get Minho back. Somehow." He decides to reply instead of what would have been his automatic response. Hoping that this would steer Thomas away from the topic of _her_. _Or saying her name_. He honest to God's green Earth absolutely **_did not_** want to hear another god damned thing about her. About the damned two-faced WICKED liar.

"I think I loved Teresa, Newt."

He did not use my name, _my **name**_ , in the same sentence as hers. _He most definitely did not_. He isn't  that dense.

Newt looks away momentarily and he can feel Thomas fidgeting nervously in his grip, unable to deal with his feelings.

"What makes you think that?" Newt dares to ask.

_A question he'd regret asking and would eventually push him over the edge._

The entire night, Thomas did _not once_ take a breath without mentioning her. Lest he were eating, drinking, or sleeping.

Newt decides he's had quite enough.

 

 

4\. A deafening bang wakes the entirety of the camp up. A thud is heard not too soon after.

After the aftermath of finding Newt's body in the exact same spot as his first attempt, Thomas paces around the tent they once shared. He finds Newt's necklace. Well, what use to be his necklace on his cot and quirks an eyebrow. The vial has always sat on his neck so curiously he has always wondered what it was. It sits neatly on his pillow and he examines the metal. Right away he notices a divot in the metal. A case? He twists the cap off and it reveals a piece of paper. A heavy sigh comes out as he realizes that Newt wrote a note and his suicide was planned. Anger floods his veins but he unfolds and unravels the note as gently as he can. The note reads:

 

_Dear Tommy,_

_I don't think I've ever written a letter before. I can't quite remember. Nonetheless I am happy to see you will the first and (hopefully) last to recieve one. I'll definitely die of fright if I survive this time, so I do hope with all my heart I am successful. I'm not afraid of death. Death in itself is easy. I'm afraid of living cowardly. And that is all I have been doing._

_Greenie, I want to thank you for being my friend. You were always there for me. I hope I can die thinking I did just the same for you. You gave my life purpose the moment you joined us in the maze. Thank you a thousand times, Tommy. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for not wanting to live. It's an odd request but I understand if you cannot. I'm sorry that I couldn't find it in me to want to stay alive. As much as I valued our friendship.. I wanted a bit more._

_Evidently, I don't think you wanted anything more from me besides friendship. But I cannot speak for you. I wanted to be your companion, not just in here. But in love, in life. Alas, I couldn't work out any scenarios in which that happened so I hope you nothing but happiness. I do hope Teresa or whomever else treats you well. You deserve to be happy._

_Don't let a dead shuck coward affect you in any way. You were just perfect. You are._

_I wish you nothing but the best._

_I'm sorry for everything. And more._

**Newt.**

 

Thomas takes in a shaky breath before letting out a weak and muffled scream into his palm. Because _how. How could Newt do this to him?_  A mixture of overwhelming sadness, confusion, and rage run through his mind all and once. His hearts sinks because he would never see, hear, or touch Newt and the sudden realization hits him identical to a bag of bricks.

_Was he? Did he? No but, Teresa-_

_Could he have possibly?_

 

Well, it's a little too late to decide that.  ~~Now, isn't it?~~

**Author's Note:**

> "You jump, I jump. Remember?"


End file.
